Talking is overrated
by schak
Summary: Talking is most definitely  overrated. Who needs talking? Cristina/Burke Bang  Setting: The not- speaking- time, Burke is home again after his second surgery.
1. Chapter 1

Summery: Bang Christina/Burke Romance/'Humor

Setting: The not- speaking- time, after Burke is home after his surgery. AU

Talking is most definitely overrated. Who the hell needs talking, if there is sex and surgery without it? And a damn sulky boyfriend or to many, to long on-call shift is NOT going to change that fact. And if today is really Wednesday, why is the pill packaging says it's Tuesday?

Talking is overrated

Chapter 1

It was all about playing games. This whole damn relationship was about playing games. It started with a bet, placed on a coffee cup. Put yourself in the opening, watch her reaction and see if she plays along. A very hot game that's for sure. It was a game to sneak in on-call rooms or laps to meet for some booty calls. Who locks the door? Who has the power in this relationship? To push and to shy away and to finally meet again (in the bedroom or on the couch or in the on-call room or…). It was all about playing games.

So yes, mistakes were made. Terrible mistakes. Mistakes that could destroy everything and leave you with nothing. Trust had to rebuild and fears must be cased away. But she was sticking and he wanted her to stick and even if staying together was painful, everything else just was not possible.

So they were sticking with each other.

And this whole not taking thing was only another game!

And losing was not a option! Not this time!

Burke knew that she was trying to annoy him. She left her used towel on the floor, and used his razor to shave her legs to irritate him enough to complain about it. Just like he put the shower-head so high up that she couldn't reach it, and sorted her cosmetics in the bathroom cabinet where she was never able to find them in the morning.

Christina was aware that he only played his trumpet when she tried to study, and always watched a boring documentation about reindeer farmers in who-the-hell-cares at the same time a great action-thriller came, to get under her skin. A little bit like when she put the remote somewhere, anywhere, it didn't belong or when she turned up the stereo and danced around the apartment when he was reading some journal. Like she was doing right now.

He could live with the mess she created and he could live with the fact that yesterday, he found the remote in the refrigerator. He could live with the music too, but he absolutely hated it when she started to dance. When her hair (she knew he loved running his hand through them) was flying around and while moved her delicate body with every beat of the music. When her every curve was shown off. When she rotated her hips in exactly this way, and he though about them moving against his. When she gave herself completely to the music without thinking, like how she should have given herself to him.

He really hated her dancing.

His mouth was dry as he was NOT watching her dance, but reading his journal about... about something medical- NO, it was a new recipe he wanted to try tomorrow, just for him, not her. His hands were itching to grab her waist and run them up her sides, and pull her against him to feel her every move. No he didn't think that, he thought of what he had to get from the shop tomorrow after work,- and did she just stole his yogurt? Her tongue ran over her full lips, that right now would taste like his favorite raspberry-yogurt, to lick something away, all while she continued to dance.

Sometimes it was to easy to get him, to make him react. She'd come home from a 30-hour shift and he stopped cooking for her, so she'd steal his stuff from the refrigerator; not that she has any real stuff in there. But to have his eyes follow her every move and action was exciting.

He wasn't sure how or why, but the next second he stood up and made a step in her direction, he stopped to fetch himself a book, any book. He most definitely didn't want to go to her or anything, he wanted that book, nothing else. A little glance to her told him, that she took another spoon from his yogurt and with a small smile closed her eyes to savor the taste.

What made him drop the book wasn't that with her hair messed up, and a fine blush on her cheeks from the dancing, it all made her intoxicatingly beautiful. Why did he even have a book about modern art of East Europe and Middle East? He went up to her. It was because the yogurt was his, and it was his last yogurt, and he wanted it back. This was the only reason why he lowered his lips to hers to get the yogurt, his yogurt, back. He just wanted back what was his.

She hated her body for being so weak. The moment his lips touched hers, her body ached for him, melted for him, responded to him. His right hand took the yogurt from her hand and put it next to the sink while his left crashed her hard against him. Her arms snaked around his neck and she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. They fought a battle for dominance and self-control.

As his hands found themselves on her top, and she allowed him to touch her heated skin, he knew he had passed the point of no return. His strong hands sent her into beautiful bliss, where it didn't matter that they had a fight, that they weren't talking with each other, that they were just too stubborn for their own good. Right then and there, there was only him and her, and some primitive basic instincts. No talking, no thinking. Just pure desperation.

Nothing changed as they lied in bed, fetching their breath. Tomorrow they would still ignore each other at the hospital and there will be towels on the floor and too high shower-heads. He will still just cook for himself, and she will still steal his stuff from the refrigerator. But maybe there will be some dancing.

That changed.

He didn't hate her dancing anymore, at least not so much.

But nothing else changed.

Because it just was another game.

It was all about games.

And yogurts.

He needs to buy some tomorrow.

A.N. I will make it short.

A huge Thank you to BlindLoveFreeSpirit for beeing my beta-reader.


	2. Chapter 2

Talking is overrated

Chapter 2

If you took everything together, life wasn't that bad. No, really, it was quit good.

She still wasn't speaking with Burke, and more importantly, he didn't make her coffee in the morning. But those were just details. All together, life was good. She still had unbelievably great sex with her hot boyfriend. She just had an amazing surgery with Dr. Bailey. She could eat as much take-outs as she wish. She could ride her motorbike, without somebody mumbling something about a death-trap. She could work till she couldn't stand anymore and nobody complained about it.

See, life was amazing.

She was happy. Her shoulders ached and her feet hurt from standing six hours in the OR. She was happy. Not Meredith, with her weeping about McDreamy or her McFather or McWhatever. Not George, with Orthochick and his sex-obsession (well, that was more funny than anything else). Not Izzy, with her 8.7 million in numbers, 8.700.000 in words, eight-point-seven-zero-zero-point-zero-zero-zero in dollars and no idea how to spend it. Did that even qualify as a problem? And not Alex, with Montgomery and whatever else was going on with him. Christina was happy. She only wanted to crash down in an on-call room and slept like a stone, but she would crash happily.

She had been in for 20 hours and she had six hours till rounds. Thankful for the fact that Alex was on-call and not her, she dragged herself to next free bed, put her pager away, and the moment her head hit the pillow she was out like she was dead.

**X**

It was 4:45 am when her pager was going off. It was Meredith, asking her why she hadn't stolen the best cases for rounds in 15 minutes.

Damn.

Hastily she got up and practically ran to the locker room for a really, really quick cold shower and some fresh scrubs.

As she was meeting up with the others, Meredith widely grinned at her.

"What?"

"I got the best cases, sleepyhead."

"Well after I had my pick of cause, I was on call after all. But I'm sure there are some rectals for you left, Yang."

"In your dreams, evil spawn. And I still have some great cases form yesterday, that will be operated today."

"Can't you just leave me one success?"

"Nope I can't. I always win. You know that Mer."

"Oh really? I have a Blalock-Taussig-Shunt on a three-years old TAR-patient with Burke."

"I hate you, Bambi. I do. From the deepest part of my heart and soul."

Any further conversation was stopped by Bailey and her demand to start rounds. Considering that she had been on call last night, and the dark bags under her eyes, her son was giving her hell at home. It didn't seem to improve her normally...cheerful mood.

"OK, suck ups..."

With that, she fixed George, who had mixed up some blood tests. It had been noticed, when a 61 year old man with a broken wrist, had been diagnosed to be pregnant. Four blood tests had to be re-done and time and hospital resources had been wasted. Even when no wrong results were given to patients, the whole episode was absolutely no fun for George. Bailey hadn't been amused either.

"If today I hear one tiny little complaint about you, like I did yesterday, I will make your life such a living hell, that you will quit this program before sun set. Understood?"

They just nodded, and for the lack of a dying wish, kept their mouth shut; particularly George, who tried to master the art to melt with the lockers behind him and failed, miserably.

It had been a good day. She hadn't lied, when she said that she still had some good cases left. She had a liver transplantation with the chief, a brain-tumor with Shepard, and a skin transplantation of a burning victim with Slone. And the best part, she was on call with a storm warning. She was excited, like a kid at Christmas Eve, awaiting lots of bloody, broken presents...and she wasn't disappointed.

In that moment the phone rang to inform them that four traumas were on the way.

The first two were pretty boring, just a little laceration and a whiplash trauma. The next had a dislocated shoulder and a broken nose. However, the last was the jackpot. A very complicated open fracture, and it was all hers. Well, Orthochick's, but she let her scrub in and it was really cool. Christina had the firm belief that somebody who was a good surgeon couldn't be so bad. Apart from McDreamy, nobody else was able to switch so fast from genius to idiot. And considering what she saw in that surgery, Orthochick couldn't be so bad. She let her place some nails and sew the wound at the end. The surgery was long and exciting. The rest of the night she was in the pit, but it didn't matter, because she was still surgery-high.

Nothing else interesting came in that night, which made the fact that she was off the next day bearable.

Her shift ended at 5:00 am. When she got home it was 6:15 am and Burke just started to make breakfast for himself. She changed in her pajamas, took her pill and crawled into the bed. On his side of the bed, because it was still warm, not because it still smelled like Burke. And she dreamed about sex and surgery. A little smile was on her lips as she dosed off.

Life was good. Even without coffee in the morning.

**X**

It was ridiculous. This whole situation was ridiculous. They weren't talking with each other. They were a couple, but they weren't talking. They lived in the same apartment, but they were ignoring each other when they had sex. It was absolutely ridiculous.

He enjoyed having time for himself. He jogged around longer to build up more stamina now that he had more time in the morning...because he didn't make her breakfast. He had met up with some old friends and went to a jazz club with them. All the stuff that Christina just didn't like.

He really enjoyed all this, and that was even more ridiculous. He started to get comfortable in this mess, a little. You don't get comfortable in not talking to your girlfriend. He missed her, but sometimes it didn't matter and he was satisfied.

He was making breakfast when she stumbled through the door. She dropped her bag and helmet next to the door and disappeared into the bedroom. She didn't even grab something to eat.

She hadn't been home for the last three nights, not that he cared or anything. It was just because of the sex. It was Thursday and she already had worked 54 hours this week, not that he payed attention to her workload. She probably hadn't eating anything real since lunch with her friends, not that it mattered to him or something.

It was absolutely ridiculous that a 28 years-old doctor couldn't take care of her own body.

It was a coincidence that card for a delivery service lied on the table when he went to work.

* * *

><p>A.N. I'm sorry. This chapter wasn't so great.<p>

I want to say thank you to **BlindLoveFreeSpirt** for being my beta-reader and **AmyHale** for leaving a review.


	3. Chapter 3

**Talking is overrated **

**Chapter 3**

A little bit of stress isn't necessarily a bad thing. Because stress pumps adrenaline through the body. And adrenaline keeps you on top of the game, makes you forget that you're hungry, tired, even hurt, and lets you focus on the task at hand. But the very best thing about stress, is when it falls on you.

Cristina stepped under the shower after a hectic shift and let the warm water run down her body. The workload she put on herself took its toll on her. Just for one moment she wasn't thinking about anything but the water that was pouring down on her. Nothing else mattered. A blissful second of not-thinking. A few stress-free minutes, more she didn't want. She wasn't thinking about the patient she had had with Shepherd today, who was as far away from out of the woods as you could be, without actually being dead. He probably wouldn't survive the night. But she didn't want to think about that or about anything at all. She just wanted to focus on the water, that washed away the stress.

**X**

When Burke came home he had been through one hell of a day. Three emergency surgeries in less than five hours, and worst of all, a ten year old girl died on his table and he had been unable to do a freaking thing about it. He came home to a silent apartment, to Cristina, who he still wasn't talking to. For one moment he thought about turning around and just leaving. To run. To hide somewhere, anywhere, but he just took a deep breath and stepped in.

When he heard the water he went to the bathroom. Even if they weren't talking, right than, he needed to see her, to hold her in his arms and breathe in her scent. So he stepped into the bathroom and saw her in the shower, how she massaged her left shoulder with her right hand. When he saw this his eyes became softer. Her whole body was stiff and it was obvious that she hadn't had a great day either. He undressed himself and soundlessly stepped into the shower with her. He startled her a little bit, when he gently pushed her hand away from her shoulder to massage her himself. Under the loving touch of his hands she started to relax and a low moan escaped her lips, when he began to place soft kisses on her neck and shoulders.

She just enjoyed to feel him close by and slowly turn around in his arms.

His eyes said all that his lips wouldn't say out loud in that moment.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

She answered by pulling him down to kiss him, with all the longing and desire in her. To let him know, that she felt the same way.

This was a moment far away from their stressful reality. To hold and to feel each other; that was where happiness laid. While kissing each other there was no fatigue, while touching each other there were no hunger, while being one with each other there were no hurt in the world. Completely without stress.

**X**

The worst thing about stress is when it comes back full force after a short escape from it. They rested in each other's arms for a long time, just staring into each other's eyes. Her fingertips rested against his chest and felt his heartbeat. He carefully let his thumb run over her lips. When his neared her to steal an other kiss her lips moved hesitantly as if she wanted to say something, but he never would find out, because their pagers went off.

A 911 called everyone back to the hospital. It must have been something big. Again! For a split second Cristina wondered if there was a god and what the hell he/she/it had against Seattle. Burke was absolutely sure that there hadn't been so many catastrophes before this problematic intern-set showed up there. It didn't matter, they put on some clothes, grabbed their pagers and keys and were out of the door.

The stress was back. Oh joy.

**X**

Cristina arrived first at the hospital and saw five ambulances at the entrance. She hurried in to change. In the locker room she met Meredith.

"What's going on?" She asked while putting on her scrub top. The call came at the most un-welcomed moment, but when she at work, with the mixed smell of body liquids and disinfectant, she was anxious for what lied ahead of her. She was back in the game and she was always on top of the game.

"Derek." Not exactly the answer she had waited for.

"What?"

"Derek. He had a dinner, with candles and wine and all this stuff. And he had a present, earrings, and when I asked him why he did all that he was all hurt for forgetting our one-month-anniversary of being re-together again or something. I mean one-month-anniversary. It's stupid. Seriously!"

"Seriously? That's your answer to my question? I mean, what's going on here, now. You know with the 911 that called us here."

"Oh that."

"Yes. That."

"I don't know."

"Great." The annoyance was easily recognizable in both her face and voice.

They met Alex front of the elevator and they stepped in together.

"Any idea what's going on here?"

"She means in the hospital, not what destroys your peace of mind." Meredith informed Alex and then turned her head to the side to fixate on Cristina.

"Exactly that." While she said that she stared back into Meredith's eyes. Alex was slightly confused by their exchange and answered.

"Ehm... What's up with you two? Do I even want to know? But about the call, across town a gas line blew up in an apartment building."

"See Mere, that is interesting. A blew up gas line with lots of victims, yes. McDreamy, not so much."

"What had he done this time?"

"Why did Alex have more interest in my life and problems, than my person?"

"Because evil spawn is a gossip, and he wants to know so that he can later suck up to McDreamy by saying that he totally understands him or something."

"What kind of view to you have of me?"

This input earned a disparaging glance form Cristina. "That was a rhetorical question, right?"

"You would use my problems to your advance?"

"Well..."

"How could you?" With this Meredith slapped his arm. Cristina just rolled her eyes.

"Mere, you act as if it wasn't obvious."

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out to find Bailey. They didn't need to search for long, Bailey stood some meters away form them with Izzy and George. She welcomed them quite harshly.

"Thanks a lot for joining us." Before one of them could word a single syllable she continued. "OK, every one of you will get a patient and you will try not to kill them. Understood?- Good."

The doors opened and they stood in the middle of hell. They heard people screaming and crying and the noise of too little staff trying to take care of too many patients. They were hit with the heavy smell of burned flesh mixed with the strange metallic smell of blood that you could nearly task on your tongue.

Cristina quickly chose a middle-aged woman whose right arm was partly missing. Two paramedics shortly informed her what they had done and what they knew about the woman, which was next to nothing, except the blood type. She quickly examined the injury and came to a very good diagnosis. The arm had suffered too much damage. They probably wouldn't be able to save it, but hopefully they could save her life. She called over a nurse.

"Try to page a general or an ortho and we need a OR immediately. And get me some blood, B+, and I need to set an infusion. Quick!"

The nurse hurried back with an infusion and helped Cristina to set it.

"OR 4 will be free in 15 minuets and 5 more for disinfection, the blood is on the way, but it will take some time."

"A third of her arm is missing. We don't have time. She is bleeding out!" Cristina took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. "Well, get me some saline solution, till we get the blood."

Oh god, she loved stress and adrenaline. She felt like all her senses were working 110 percent as she wheeled her patient to the elevator.

Once they were on the surgery floor, the patient was prepared and she stepped into the scrub room, where she met Dr. Appelboom, a resident from Bailey's year. Cristina never worked with him before and was curious if he was any good.

After some time they had amputated the arm right under the elbow and the patient was stable when Dr. Appelboom became quit talkative.

"So, you are one of Bailey's interns?"

"Well, yes."

"The one with the dead patient-fiance or the one that sleeps with Shepherd respectively, or Burke?" He asked cheerfully.

The urge to smash the stupid grin from his face nearly made her jump over the OR-table to do it. She controlled herself.

"Burke."

"Oh... How is he? He was out quite some time."

"Fine. He is fine again.- Is this a bone fragment there?" She never thought it was possible, but she wanted to leave the OR as soon as she could.

"You're right. Tweezers, please. Bailey wanted to exchange you guys with the rest of us a million times, because you're constantly so much trouble."

"I would too, if I would be in her shoes." Cristina answered truthfully. It animated him to laugh out loud.

He wasn't very good looking. Neither bad or ugly. He was normal, nothing special, like is surgical skills. He wasn't nearly as good as Bailey, but he wasn't bad at his job. But his laugh was true and even Cristina had to suppress a smile while hearing it.

"She says it all the time that she wants to swap you, but in the end she wouldn't give up a single one of you. With her you have a resident for life. One day you will meet her at a conference and she will berate you or praise you, and if needed, defend you against anyone."

"Why are you telling me this?" This way he was talking started to make her aggressive, but on the same time his eyes showed that he thought that it was important that she understood this.

"Everyone knows that you and Burke are on the rocks right now..."

She clenched her teeth and wanted to interject, but he stopped her.

"No, wait. Everyone knows that and if you're only with him because you don't know how to break up with an attending, Bailey would defend you, if needed. He wouldn't be able to pull you off from surgery for long."

"I don't remember asking for your opinion about my love life. Could we now _maybe _concentrate on the patient again?" The response was very harsh and cold.

**X**

Burke just had removed a one feet (~30,4cm) long drill head from his patient's lung. The patient's best friend had presented his new drill when the gas line blew up and the fell forward into his friend. It was a long and messy surgery, because the drill was actually running when it drilled itself through a man's chest.

The surgery was successful, but the man never will able to do much sports again, or work physically. Not the greatest prospects for a craftsman. A look on his watch told him, that in little under a hour his shift would start, which meant, that he needed some coffee, lots of coffee.

In front of the coffee cart he saw Shepherd with hanging shoulders and this indicated that

a) his patient died and he needed to talk about it, b) he had problems with Grey and needed to talk about them, c) both…and he needed to talk about it. For some seconds Burke entertained the idea of getting his coffee from the cafeteria to avoid the talk. But he wanted, needed, his coffee now and didn't have the energy to go another meter without it.

"A coffee, please. Black." He normally liked cappuccino better, but right now he needed caffeine, lots of caffeine, if it weren't so damn toxic he would eat it pure.

"Preston, didn't seen you there. How are you doing?"

"Quit well. And you?" This was one of the moments where he cursed his good manners that forced him to ask, even when he wasn't interested in the answer.

"Not so much. My patient from yesterday died, and the one right now doesn't look too well either. And I had a fight with Meredith."

Damn it was both! He really, really didn't want to ask. He wanted to grab his coffee and leave, but he couldn't. He still didn't have the energy to avoid him, and maybe a tiny little piece of his soul wanted to hear that his relationship wasn't the only shaken one.

"She forgot our one-month-anniversary. We were good and happy and shiny and she forgot it. As if it didn't matter to her, as if us together again after everything isn't a reason to celebrate!"

While Shepherd ranged about this Slone and Addison arrived at the coffee cart. Everyone seemed in a serious need of coffee tonight, well, more like this morning. They ordered their coffee too and Slone interrupted the conversation.

"For real. Derek. You complain about this to Burke? Of all people?"

"He happens to have some experience in relationships and can give good advice." It wasn't obvious who he defended more. Burke, or his choice of conversation partner.

"Even if, and I say if, his girlfriend remembered that his birthday is in three weeks, she wouldn't congratulate him on it. And you complain about your girlfriend forgetting your anniversary? Come on, please."

"Mark!" Addison interjected him. "Stop it!"

"But it's true!"

"Thanks a lot, Dr. Slone, for pointing that out. Addison, Derek, I'll take my leave now." Burke grabbed his coffee and left. After some steps he turned around once more. "Oh, and Derek. It probably didn't matter to her. It is one month and she isn't trusting this whole renewed and improved relationship, again. She is still waiting for the next catastrophe to happen. So one month, doesn't mean a thing."

The disbelieving look on Derek's face nearly made it worth the stress to put up with him and listen to his problems. Other relationships sucked too, but for less important reasons. He didn't know if this nasty idea came from the lack of sleep or because Cristina started to rubbed off on him.

**X**

Cristina had grabbed some snacks and made herself comfortable on one of the beds in the tunnel when Meredith came through the door.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Is this bed taken?"

"No… Do you want it to be? That sounds so wrong." They shortly giggled about it together.

"It does." Meredith sat down on the bed next to her.

"Tonight sucked." Cristina looked over at Meredith.

"It did." They felt like there was no energy left in them and all reserves were used up.

"You know what else sucks? Derek and his stupid one-moth-anniversary."

"The people in the hospital think I'm still with Burke because I'm afraid to break up with him."

"That's stupid. You aren't afraid of anything, much less Burke. If you guys ever broke up with each other he would need to run, fast, because you would totally kick his ass."

"Exactly! So McDreamy made a big deal of this one-month-whatever?"

"Yeah, I mean one month. We were together longer the first time, before the McWife showed up and didn't made such a big deal out of it!"

"Because now you're the girlfriend and not the mistress. Or because he became more stupid and clingy since his divorce. And a one-month-anniversary is really, really stupid."

"Absolutely! I mean how can you make such a big deal out of it and on a Tuesday evening?"

"Today is Tuesday."

"No it isn't. Yesterday was Tuesday. Today is Wednesday."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Why do I think it's Tuesday today?"

"Because you work too much."

"I don't."

"You forget what day of the week it is."

"Okay.. Maybe. Do you what some?" Cristina offered Meredith some of her snacks.

"Is this from the vending machine? I mean like, today, and not from your locker?"

"From today. And there is nothing wrong with the stuff from my locker."

"That's good. And there is. The day before yesterday you had to puke from the junk."

"No...Wait...Yeah...You're right. Damn! And today is really Wednesday?"

"It is."

"Ok."

After that they just sat there some time and ate snacks, till their pagers went off and stress and adrenaline put them back in the game.

**X**

She would have never thought that it was possible to feel so much stress and panic because of three little letters. Three little innocent letters just sent her in a state of unbelievable panic. When she had arrived an hour ago to her home, she had only wanted to change and fall into the bed. But now she stood wide awake there, staring down at the three letters. Her hands started to shake a little bit. She had just went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, brushing her teeth, taking her pill. After that she had looked at the package, where the three letters stood.

TUE.

Damn.

Damn Burke.

Damn everything.

Damn the stress.

* * *

><p><p>

A.N. OK, I hate dialogues. I never manage to stay in character, or at least I feel like it. Please tell me what you think about this chapter so I can improve myself.


End file.
